your own idea?”
“Entirely.”
“Then what was the meaning of the walk on the beach to-day?”
“Harry sought for it, and said that we had been playfellows from children, that he loved me very dearly, and he asked me to be his wife.”
“The – ”
Van Heldre checked himself.
“And what did you say?”
“That it was impossible.”
“Then you do not care for him?”
Madelaine was silent.
“Then you do not care for him?”
“I’m afraid I care for him very much indeed,” said Madelaine firmly.
“Let me thoroughly understand you, my darling. You love George Vine’s son – your old friend’s brother?”
“Yes, father,” said Madelaine, in a voice little above a whisper.
“And he has asked you to be his wife?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what answer you gave him.”
“That I would never marry a man so wanting in self-respect.”
“Hah!”
“He said that our parents were rich, that there was no need for him to toil as he had done, but that if I consented it would give him an impetus to work.”
“And you declined conditionally?”
“I declined absolutely, father.”
“And yet you love him?”
“I’m afraid I love him very dearly.”
“You are a strange girl, Madelaine.”
“Yes, father.”
“Do you know what it means for me to take this fellow into my office?”
“Much trouble and care.”
“Yes. Then why should I?”
“Because, as you have so often taught me, we cannot live for ourselves alone. Because he is the son of your very old friend.”
“Yes,” said Van Heldre softly.
“Because it might save him from a downward course now that there is, I believe, a crisis in his life.”
“And because you love him, Maddy?”
She answered with a look.
“And if I were so insane, so quixotic, as to do all this, what guarantee have I that he would not gradually lead you to think differently – to consent to be his wife before he had redeemed his character?”
“The trust you have in me.”
“Hah!” ejaculated Van Heldre again. And there was another long silence.
“I feel that I must plead for him, father. You could influence him so much.”
“I’m afraid not, my child. If he has not the manliness to do what is right for your sake, anything I could do or say would not be of much avail.”
“You underrate your power, father,” said Madelaine, with a look full of pride in him.
“And if I did this I might have absolute confidence that matters should go no farther until he had completely changed?”
“You know you might.”
“Hah!” sighed Van Heldre.
“You will think this over, father?”
“There is no need, my dear.”
“No need?”
“No, my child. I have for some days past been thinking over this very thing, just in the light in which you placed it.”
“You have?”
“Yes, and I had a long talk with George Vine this afternoon respecting his son.”
“Oh, father!”
“I told him I could see that the trouble was growing bigger and telling upon him, and proposed that I should take Harry here.”
Madelaine had started to her feet.
“Presuming that he does not refuse after his father has made my proposals known, Harry Vine comes here daily to work.”
Madelaine’s arms were round her father’s neck.
“You have made me feel very happy and satisfied, my dear, and may Heaven speed what is going to be a very arduous task.”
Just then Mrs Van Heldre raised her head and looked round.
“Bless my heart!” she exclaimed. “I do believe I have nearly been to sleep.”
Volume One – Chapter Eight.
Uncle Luke Speaks his Mind
“Hallo, Scotchman!”
“Hallo, Eng – I mean French – What am I to call you, Mr Luke Vine?”
“Englishman, of course.”
Uncle Luke was seated, in a very shabby-looking grey tweed Norfolk jacket made long, a garment which suited his tastes, from its being an easy comfortable article of attire. He had on an old Panama hat, a good deal stained, and had a thick stick armed with a strong iron point useful for walking among the rocks, and upon this staff he rested as he sat outside his cottage door watching the sea and pondering as to the probability of a shoal of fish being off the point.
His home with its tiny scrap of rough walled-in garden, which grew nothing but sea holly and tamarisk, was desolate-looking in the extreme, but the view therefrom of the half natural pier sheltering the vessels in the harbour of the twin town was glorious.
He had had his breakfast and taken his seat out in the sunshine, when he became aware of the fact that Duncan Leslie was coming down from the mine buildings above, and he hailed him with a snarl and the above words.
“Glorious morning.”
“Humph! Yes, but what’s that got to do with you?”
“Everything. Do you suppose I don’t like fine weather?”
“I thought you didn’t care for anything but money-grubbing.”
“Then you were mistaken, because I do.”
“Nonsense! You think of nothing but copper, spoiling the face of nature with the broken rubbish your men dig out of the bowels of the earth, poisoning the air
